Souls and Swords, Ki and Chaos
by The Bellmaker
Summary: Soul Edge has once more been awakened. Those immortal survivors of its previous awakenings are gathering once more, collecting in the land the Evil Blade can be felt in...Nerima. Chaos awaits.


_Transcending history and the world, a tale of swords and souls, eternally retold..._

A clash of steel against steel rang out across the streets, as two shadowy figures dashed from rooftop to rooftop, trading blows with foot and blade, locked in mortal combat. The two moved with nigh-superhuman speed and grace, and despite the clear speed advantage one of them held, they seemed evenly matched, the slower of the two obviously aware of his disadvantage, and compensating beautifully. Rather than fighting defensively, he fought with a glorious economy of motion, each movement flowing into the next, not afraid to turn a block into a strike, into momentum for his next blow.

Most of the natives of Nerima were so inured to such things that they didn't even look up at the fight above their heads. There were those, however, to whom the combat was of interest. So, when one of the combatants landed a lucky kick, knocking their foe to the ground in an out of the way alley, they did not go unobserved.

* * *

"Hmph. Just die, already." The pale foreigner said imperiously, with an almost petulant slash of his rapier.

His foe was no novice, though, and dodged with a quick roll, regaining his footing after the fall. "Fool. You think you can beat me? Have you learned nothing from our past battles? I am Mitsurugi! The King of Hell himself could not stand against my blade! What chance do you have?" The man held his katana like he was born to it, clearly intimately familiar with the weapon's use.

"You never will let anyone forget your victories over Inferno, will you?" his green-clad foe asked dryly, "Well then..." the man bowed mockingly, flourishing his own weapon in a wide sweep, "let us dance!"

The two struck simultaneously. Mitsurugi stepped forward with a staggering overhead strike, clearly anticipated by his opponent, as the man in green spun deftly to the side and thrust with his own weapon, angling for the throat of his samurai enemy, obviously hoping to score a quick kill. It was not to be, however, as the man angled his body, bringing his lone shoulder guard to bear, blocking the strike with a minimum of effort, as he sheathed his blade in a single deft motion. His foe recognized the stance, and and leapt back, clear of the lethal draw which had been prepared.

His feet set widely, Mitsurugi watched his enemy carefully, knowing that this blow would decide the too-brief fight. If he struck his opponent, it would be over. Likewise, should he miss, that same foe was much too fast and skilled to allow him a chance at a second strike. It all came down to this...

The sabreur proved the less patient of the two, and, after taking a moment to measure the distance between them, darted forward. The katana hissed as it cut through the air, and a spray of blood painted the wall beside the combatants. Truly, it was a testament to both men's skill that neither died right there. The foreigner had hesitated a brief moment, just outside the reach of the samurai's blade, in hopes of dodging the strike. Mitsurugi, however, was not a legendary master of his art for nothing, and had slid forward in anticipation of the dodge, having seen such a maneuver before. As it was, he scored a nasty slash across the cheek of his opponent. That blow had been ignored, and had the samurai not been the master that he was, that would surely have been his end. His follow-up, though, took the European swordsman full in the side of his head. With a sickening crack, the sheath of the katana followed the blade, and the sheer power behind even that left-handed blow threw the man into the same wall his blood now decorated. He fell, stunned for but a moment, but that was enough. The blooded blade rose, point down, in preparation for a killing thrust, when a shout rang out.

"Father!" A young girl, not more than fourteen, surely, in a Gothic Lolita dress dashed down the alley, a rapier of her own in her hand. Surprised by this turn of events, the samurai flubbed his intended killing blow, hesitating just long enough in making the strike for his enemy to roll over onto his back. As the katana descended, time seemed to slow, and the man's gloved hands came up to catch the blade...just after it entered his chest.

With a cry of pain, the man was impaled, his green clothing already growing stained by his blood. The girl charged forward, closing the last few feet in a burst of superhuman speed surprising even to the native Neriman onlookers. Her attack was vicious, and deadly, forcing mitsurugi to relinquish his hold on his sword. He was forced back by the girl, losing ground rapidly to the skilled youth as she struck at him in rage. Unseen by all, the gloved hands of the fallen warrior continued to tighten on the blade that passed all the way through his body, even as it cut deeply into his palms through his gloves, still his hands gripped tighter, until at last, with a short, sharp twist, the sword shattered.

Distracted by this sudden destruction of the weapon that had so faithfully served him over the course of hundreds of years of battle, Mitsurugi failed to dodge the next blow as fully as he should. The rapier sank into his thigh, illiciting a grunt of pain, and dropping him to his knees for a moment. As his young attacker drew back for a final blow, he readied himself for a risky unarmed strike, planning on accepting another wound in exchange for creating an opening for a single decisive blow, hopefully ending the battle once and for all...

"Amy!" The man in green had somehow climbed to his feet, and now leaned against the brick, supporting himself with one arm, and clutching his wound with the other. When he spoke, blood spilled slowly from his mouth, thick and red. "That's...enough. We retreat...for now."

"Father!" The girl was at his side in the blink of an eye, and took the wall's place as a support for the blond man she called 'Father.'

"Don't think you will escape, Raphael. None of the others will hesitate to finish you, fair fight or not. They all felt it, just like we did, and they'll arrive soon. Your time is up, with that wound." The samurai stood and glared as the two made their escape, hand grabbing reflexively for the hilt of a sword. But when the pair fled, disappearing from sight almost magically as they leapt, the man collapsed to his knees with a racking cough. "Poison...the cur always was fond of it. That girl must have...Damn it!" He punched the ground in frustration, and cracks spiderwebbed out from the shattered pavement. "You! Girl!" Mitsurugi indicated one of the concealed fighters, "My pack is that way, a few roofs back. Bring it here."

Surprised at being so easily discovered, Shampoo nevertheless ran to get it, not willing to refuse when someone's life may very well be at stake. As she leapt away, the man sat back against one of the alley walls, and began to curse under his breath as he reached up and pulled a long strip of cloth from under his shoulder guard - a bandage.

He glanced up when he had it in hand, and shouted, "The rest of you may as well come out, instead of skulking around like damn ninja!"

His eyebrows rose as the hidden watchers showed themselves. It was an odd group, certainly, and they all seemed surprised to find the others there. Apparently they had at least managed to hide from each other, if not the person they had been trying to conceal themselves from. A Chinese boy in robes and glasses, a girl armed with...spatulas? Two ninja, and another boy, in a red Chinese silk shirt and black silk pants. It was this last person who stepped forward, apparently speaking for the group.

"Who are ya?" He seemed wary. An understandable reaction, given what he had just witnessed, in Mitsurugi's mind. While he was correct as to the boy's attitude, the assumed reason couldn't be farther from the truth.

The injured man chuckled, "The name's Mitsurugi. Mitsurugi Heishiro. And you are?"

"The name's Saotome Ranma."

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, I'm starting another story. Doesn't mean I'm abandoning the others, any of them, 'cause I'm not. I just can't control the direction of the muses, is all. Most of the next chapters of all of them are ready, but still unpublishable. I also have at least one, probably two, first chapters of new stories also written to near completion and lying around. Yeah, uhm, all I can really say is sorry 'bout that.

I really am. To those of you who're still waiting for chapter two of The Missing Hokage, well, it's almost ready. Really. I promise.


End file.
